Aaron's rod

I54
AARON'S ROD
down from the box into the palm of the porter, and carried
on an impassioned dialogue. Aaron stood with one foot on
the step.
"What you give he? One franc?" asked the driver.
"A shilling," said Aaron.
"One sheeling. Yes. I know that. One sheeling English"
and the driver went off into impassioned exclamations
in Torinese. The porter, still muttering and holding his hand
as if the coin might sting him, filtered away.
"Orright. He know sheeling orright. English moneys,
eh? Yes, he know. You get up, sir."
And away went Aaron, under the hood of the carriage,
clattering down the wide darkness of Novara, over a bridge
apparently, past huge rain-wet statues, and through more
rainy, half-lit streets.
They stopped at last outside a sort of park wall with trees
above. The big gates were just beyond.
"Sir William Franks there." In a mixture of Italian and
English the driver told Aaron to get down and ring the bell
on the right. Aaron got down and in the darkness was able
to read the name on the plate.
"How much?" said Aaron to the driver.
"Ten franc," said the fat driver.
But it was his turn now to screw down and scrutinise the
pink ten-shilling note. He waved it in his hand.
"Not good, eh? Not good moneys?"
"Yes," said Aaron,
money. Ten shillings.
rather
indignantly. "Good English
Better than ten francs, a good deal.
Better
"
better
"Good you say? Ten sheeling" The driver muttered
and muttered, as if dissatisfied. But as a matter of fact he
stowed the note in his waistcoat pocket with considerable sat-
isfaction, looked at Aaron curiously, and drove away.
Aaron stood there in the dark outside the big gates, and
wished himself somewhere else. However, he rang the bell.
There was a huge barking of dogs on the other side. Pres-
ently a light switched on, and a woman, followed by a man,
appeared cautiously, in the half-opened doorway.